Wednesday, May 26, 2010

American Apocalypse IV - Heartland Chapter 8a

Me and Thursday started walking the direction of the school. Thursday was ogling the local women. Apparently they didn't have any where he was from. I had to admit the locals had a few good looking, big breasted young ladies.  Thursday noticed that I was looking at one particularly fine young woman walking down the opposite side of the street. He grinned and said "Yep. They need a wall."

I just grunted. I was trying to figure out how to do this. I didn't like the feeling I got from those two officers. Plus, this was going way to smoothly. I was trying to remember the last time I had a plan that had worked out as nicely as this one had so far. I couldn't think of any. I was trying to figure out if that was a good or bad sign when Thursday asked me "They got any rivers or maybe an ocean near here?"

I wanted to tell him how incredibly stupid of a question that was when I saw the school.  Instead I told him "That's the school. Let me do the talking. Okay?"

Of course he said "Sure" and of course I didn't believe him. I was trying to figure out if I was going to kill him or let him join the Horde.  It was going to be close at this rate.

We went in the front doors. It still smelled like an elementary school. That was where the resemblance ended.  Two little midget soldiers stood in the lobby flanking a large portrait of the Colonel. Their rifles, they looked like Enfields, were damn near as tall as they were.  Painted in block letters above what used to be the administrators glass cage was "MY LOYALTY IS TO GOD AND THE PEOPLE"  I thought they might want to work on that. It did nothing for me.

We went into the administrator area and were greeted at the counter by an old woman who probably never stopped working there. She looked exactly like the librarian who banned me from the computers at school for watching youtube videos back in the day. She asked us "Can I help you?" Very polite and even colder.

"Yes. We're here to pick up Zane Morton." I wanted to add "And a pizza with everything on it for carryout" but I didn't. I was working on being smooth and diplomatic. Of course Thursday added "We're on a mission for a fair maiden."  I was beginning to think he had been dropped on his head one too many times at the Renaissance Festival.

Once again I noticed the shadow pass over her eyes. What the hell had Carol given birth to? A mutant?

1 comment:

  1. Intelligent kids who speak up and care about things are considered mutants by the establishment - conform or be disciplined. See the excellent body of work by Madam L'Engel including 'A Swiftly Tilting Planet'.